


A Beginning

by Fangirlontheprowlfornewvictims



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:52:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7742275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlontheprowlfornewvictims/pseuds/Fangirlontheprowlfornewvictims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs Hudson imparts some advise to a confused young boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beginning

Martha gathered her shopping basket and purse as the bus came to a standstill. Hurriedly getting off, she almost slipped on the snow covered pavement. “Damn these shoes” she muttered under her breath.  She made her way to the bench at the bus stop, placed the shopping basket while she surveyed her shoes. She had to buy a new pair of them, these were not winter suited.  She wondered where she could get discounted shoes at this time of the year. It was almost Christmas maybe she could get a discarded pair from the church charity box. At least then she wouldn’t have to ask Harold for money for a new pair. As she gathered her basket and headed onto the streets, her attention was diverted by a low growl at the other end of the bench. At first she didn’t notice the boy, just the dog who was lying next to the bench, threatening a mouse which scurried across the pavement and raced to the other side of the road.  If one had looked a glance it would seem as if a man probably homeless sat on the other end of the bench all huddled due to the cold under a large brown coat, but on closer view you would see the child, a small boy in an oversized coat.  Martha made her way down the street, just two more blocks to home. Halfway down the street her mind went back to the poor child out in the cold all alone. Perhaps his mother was nearby, I shouldn’t worry she thought. One block away from home a thought struck what if he was abandoned.  Cast out in the night a week from Christmas left to defend for himself against the cold, perhaps a run away from one of the work houses that existed at the edge of town. Martha heart wanted to turn back to check on the boy but her brain wanted her to head home. “Harold will be angry” it said “remember the bruise”.  Martha was caught between two choices an aching heart of a woman who could have been a mother or the poor wife of a short tempered man. Maybe if I go back and take a peek, perhaps his mother was collected him she thought. I would be quick she convinced herself.

The boy still sat there trying to stay warm under the coat while the dog was partly covered in snow when Martha returned. The dog seemed too exhausted to stand up but whimpered when she came near as if it was saying “We are cold help us”. The boy looked a little blue from the cold and a little hungry. She edged near cautiously not wanting the boy to run away. He paid no attention; his face was dried tears indicating that he had been crying just recently. “Are you okay kid?” she asked gently. “Go away” came the reply quite rudely. “You look cold. Shouldn’t you head home now? Your mother must be worried” Martha asked hoping he had a home to go to. “NO” rudely once again he replied. “Why not dear” she tried again. “Don’t trouble me lady. I just want to be left alone” he shouted but not before a new stream of tears poured out. The dog stood up to comfort its master, his head nudging its master’s lap. Martha inched closer to the boy “why don’t you tell me where you live I can take you home?” she suggested. “I don’t want to go home” was the tear-filled reply. “Oh. Then where do you want to go? You can’t stay out here in the cold” Martha reasoned. It was getting dark soon the drunks would pour out on the streets, she better clear off before then. Maybe she could take the boy home, no Harold wouldn’t like that. The police perhaps, then her thoughts wandered to her basket filled with weed, no couldn’t do that too. The boy petted his dog who whimpered with sorrowful eyes at its master. “Could you point the way to the sea? Redbeard and I are going to be pirates. We just don’t know which bus to take us to the port” he questioned, hope and determination in his eyes. Oh the poor runaway child with large dreams. Martha could have laughed at the child’s innocence and quest for adventure, but that would just break the child heart. Must have recently read Treasure Island she concluded. “Have your folks allowed you?” she asked amused to see if the child had shared his ambitions with them. “I told my brother. He just ridiculed my idea. I am going to show him who will be the biggest baddest pirate ever” his eyes glowed with determination. His childish fantasy meant so much to him. Martha encircled her hands around the poor cold child, hoping it would provide a little warmth to the child. “Do you know all mean and baddy pirates in the world were adults - ? “  “I don’t care” the child interrupted “my rubbish brother now you too. Go away if you can’t help me lady”. Harold was going to be so angry, but helping this poor lost soul was more important.

Martha gave a reassuring smile “Well then, why don’t you and I take a little walk. It’s quite chilly sitting here”. The child shook her head, rubbing his arms trying to keep warm. Martha wondered how she could get the child to want to go home. “Wouldn’t your mother miss you?” she asked. “Yes but I am going to be a pirate” the stubborn little streak on his face made Martha wonder how long would she have to sit here. If the bobby came along on his nightly rounds, it would be risky to be caught with a basket of weed. Oh shucks, Harold and his drug habit. The child was sniffing now “Maybe just maybe she might miss me.” he said in a low voice. “Even your dog is cold and perhaps hungry. Have you eaten?” He shook his head, the dog too mimicked him. She had a loaf of bread in her basket which she gave the boy and a little to the eager dog, whose tails wagged all the snow away from behind him. She tried another tactic “Let me take you home. You and the dog. Its Christmas next week, I sure Santa would put you on the naughty list.” The boy scowled “There is no Santa. That fat man can’t slide down chimneys. I know it’s my dad who dresses up as Santa every year. My rubbish brother still doesn’t believe me. That nincompoop”.  Martha laughed. Sibling rivalry, oh how she missed her poor dead sister if only small pox hadn’t claimed her. “Would you like leaving your mother alone on Christmas?” The child announced rather unchildlike “Christmas is stupid”. This stubborn child, his mother had a handful Martha sighed. The dog whimpered and lay low on the floor of the bus stop. “I made her a card for Christmas. We painted it in school” the child said rather glum now. Maybe the mother card was working. “Would you like to see her face when she opens your card? How happy she would be.” She suggested. “Yes” came the reply. She could see the boy determination faded a little and little doubt in its place. He was questioning his decision to run away. “Would you like to go home kid?” she asked hopefully. “Maybe” he replied still in doubt, but the dog’s ears perked up. “Do you want me to take you?” she asked worried he might too young to know where home was. He looked barely 6-7 years old. The boy shook his head “no I know my way. Come one Readbeard lets go home to mother. She must miss us” The dog leaped up all geared up to go home. “Thanks lady” said the boy giving her a surprised hug as he left.

As he walked away from the bus stop, Martha called out “If you ever want to talk again I live down on 221A Baker’s Street. Drop in for some cookies if you like”. The boy waved goodbye, the dog leaped ahead more restless than the boy to be home. As the boy turned the corner and disappeared, Martha called out again “Didn’t catch your name kid”. The boy shouted back just before he disappeared from view “SHERLOCK HOLMES”.

 

P.S. Harold is the husband. Martha is Mrs. Hudson.


End file.
